Babies
by AdrenalineRush16
Summary: One shot. "Hey Skittery? Where do babies come from?" Tumbler asks the classic question. For Tumbler Week '09


_Tumbler Week: May 10th-17th. Hosted by Smiley94._

Disclaimer: If I owned Newsies...well, the world would definitely different, lemme just put it that way...

A/N: Happy Tumbler Week! This is my stab on a classic humor one shot; hope ya'll like it!

* * *

**Babies**

"Hey Mom!" Tumbler bounded into the family kitchen.

"Hello dear," his mother said absently. "How was your soccer game?"

"I scored a goal!" Tumbler announced proudly.

"Good for you honey," she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "I'm proud of you."

Tumbler climbed onto a stool, clutching a glass of water, and then proceeded to tell his mother all about his recent soccer game. "So I was like, pass it to me Mitch! And then he did, and I kicked the ball with all my might!" Tumbler proclaimed excitedly. "And then-!"

He was interrupted by the phone ringing. "One moment hon," his mom said picking up the phone. "Oh hello Carol." Then she smiled. Tumbler began sipping his water as his mother talked on the phone.

"Really?" Tumbler watched interested as his mother's eyes grew wide. "Well, congratulations! Yes, I'll be sure to mention it…Alright then Carol…Well, have a great day, and congrats again!" Tumbler's mother hung up the phone with a huge smile on her face.

"What's up Mom?" Tumbler asked.

"Mrs. Lund is having another baby," his mom said with a wide grin.

"That's good," Tumbler agreed. "Can I finish telling you about the game now?"

"Sure honey," his mom smiled. "Now what happened next?"

* * *

Tumbler wandered into his brother's room. It had been several hours since he had come home from soccer and found out about Mrs. Lucci's pregnancy, but a question had formed in his mind and he could not get it out of his head.

"Skitts?" he asked, standing beside his brother's desk.

"Mmm?" Skittery had his lips pressed tightly together as he carved a small squirrel out of wood.

"I was wondering something." Tumbler said innocently, not knowing what was going to happen as a result of his coming question. "Where do babies come from?"

Skittery dropped his knife and his jaw nearly hit the ground with it. "What?" he croaked eyes wide.

"Well, I know they're in moms' stomachs first," Tumbler didn't seem to notice his brother's shock. "But how did they _get_ there? It'd be kinda hard."

"You're too young to be askin' questions like that." Skittery said, picking up his knife and beginning to carve again.

Tumbler cocked his head. "Why?"

"Cuz it's inappropriate, that's why!" snapped Skittery. "Now let me have some peace so I can finish this carving."

Tumbler frowned and headed towards the door. He was a little hurt by his brother's reaction, but knew that Skittery tended to be moody. But sheesh, it was just a question. Usually, Skittery would just get irritated at other stuff, but he usually made sure that Tumbler had his questions answered. "No since in wasting your breath," he always said.

Tumbler decided to seek elsewhere for his answer. But where?...

He got it! Snapping his fingers, Tumbler raced out the door.

* * *

After dashing through the door, the little kid slowed his steps and quietly tiptoed across the floor. For he was in the library, and if you made noise in the library, you got yelled at. And since Mrs. Jacobs was the librarian, Tumbler was careful never to make loud noises in the library. He didn't want to get yelled at by a woman whom he respected. Especially since Sarah Jacobs was her daughter. Tumbler liked Sarah Jacobs a lot.

For a while, Tumbler had hoped that his older brother Skittery would actually go out with Sarah Jacobs. Not that Tumbler disliked Jack and Sarah being together, but having Sarah and Skittery together would be a lot more fun. Sarah never failed to pay attention to him whenever he and Les had to tell her something, like about their latest adventure. Skittery never really looked at Sarah all that much though, so it was doubtful that it was ever going to happen. Still, Tumbler kept a sharp eye out.

He headed towards the librarian's desk, about to go ask Mrs. Jacobs something. Because something that Specs always said was that if you had a question, you should look for the answer in a book. Because books had the answers to _everything._ That's why Specs knew a lot; he read all the time. So Tumbler took this piece of advice very seriously.

Mrs. Jacobs leaned over the counter and smiled when she saw one of her favorite boys come over. "Well hello Thomas, what can I do for you today?"

Tumbler hid a groan. He hated it when adults didn't call him Tumbler (which was often. He got the bad habit from his big brother.) His face formed a smile again though, looking up at Esther Jacobs' kind face. "I need a certain book." Tumbler said with the utmost importance.

Mrs. Jacobs chuckled. "Well then, you've come to the right place," she said smiling. "What sort of book are you looking for?"

Tumbler opened his mouth and just when he was about to ask Mrs. Jacobs for a book about the making of babies, he spied Specs across the library. "Never mind!" he blurted out and then raced over to Specs. The way Tumbler figured it, it'd be faster if he just asked Specs the question instead of looking it up. (Though he later proved himself wrong.)

Specs was curled up in a chair, nose buried deep inside a fat book. "Heya Specs!" Tumbler greeted in his small, high voice.

At the sound of his name, Specs raised his head and smiled. "Hey Tumbler, how goes it?"

Jumping at the chance, Tumbler began to form his question. "Well, you know how Mrs. Lund is going to have a baby?"

Specs smiled. "No I didn't know. I'll have to tell her congrats next time I see her."

Tumbler frowned. "Yeah, well anyway," he said quickly, wanting to get his question answered right away. "I had a question."

Specs carefully placed a bookmark inside his book and set it aside. "Alright then, shoot."

Knowing that he had Specs' full attention, Tumbler became a little nervous. What if Specs' reaction was like Skittery's? Tumbler hoped not, but then, Specs wasn't like Skittery. Well, most of the time.

"Well, I was wondering," Tumbler began, stalling a little to build up more courage. "Where do babies come from?" he asked quickly, spitting his question out quickly.

He didn't see Specs' shocked face and instead kept rambling on. "I mean, I get that they come out of mom's, but how did they get _in_ there in the first place?" He looked up at Specs with his big brown eyes questioning.

Specs cleared his throat. "Well, I suppose that is a relatively normal question."

Tumbler patiently waited for an answer while Specs cleared his throat again. "Well," he began "it's like this;" and then he launched into a long talk about how when men and women really love each other, they go to one of their houses (though hopefully they are married) and they do this certain 'thing' together and the baby is formed. Something was mentioned about sperms and eggs and by the end, Tumbler was very confused.

"Uh, does that answer your question?" Specs asked, looking a tad bit amused at Tumbler's bewildered face.

Tumbler decided to take the short way out and said yes he did, thank you very much, and then hightailed it out the door, not hearing a small chuckle from Specs' direction.

* * *

The nine year old sighed and slumped against the library wall. He didn't want to go home without his question being answered but he didn't know who to ask. He didn't want to go back into the library and face Specs' too-long explanations and it was embarrassing to ask a grownup like Mrs. Jacobs or his mom. Tumbler groaned and buried his face in his arms. Why was life so complicated?

"Hey Tumbler!"

Tumbler raised his head to see Snipeshooter wave and then run up to him grinning. "Guess who just go new marbles?!" he cried gleefully.

"Cool," Tumbler said, completely deadpan.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Snipes sat beside his friend who looked utterly dejected.

Tumbler sighed. "Well, I just have this really important question but no one will answer it." He thought of Specs. "Well, not in a way that I could understand."

"What was the question?" Snipeshooter wanted to know.

Tumbler spilled the whole story: from when he found out that Mrs. Lund was pregnant, to asking Skittery about it, to almost asking Mrs. Jacobs, to Specs' weird answer. "I just want to know where babies come from," he finished up sadly. "But no one will tell me."

"Aw Tumbler," Snipeshooter shook his head at his friend's ignorance. "You never ask older people that question, cuz they always think we're too young." Snipes rolled his eyes. "It's pretty simple though; guys and chicks, after they've dated for a while and married, they want kids right? So they do this thing called 'sex' which is when-"

That was when Tumbler slapped a hand over Snipes' mouth, his eyes wide. "You're not allowed to say that!" he said in an urgent whisper.

Snipeshooter pushed it away. "What?"

"You can't say 'sex'" Tumbler whispered, hoping no one was around.

"Yes I can!" Snipeshooter snapped.

Tumbler shook his head. "Nuh-uh. Mom told Skitts that he wasn't allowed to say that in front of me." He looked around warily, worried that someone may have overheard them.

"Oh for Pete's sake!" Snipeshooter threw up his hands. "There isn't anything wrong with saying SEX!"

"WHAT are you two talking about?!" a voice boomed behind them. Both boys jumped and then scrambled to their feet, looking into the stern face of Racetrack Higgins.

"Heh, uh," Snipeshooter took an involuntary step backward, laughing nervously. Tumbler just groaned. A simple question was turning into a huge fiasco.

"Snipes, how much do you even know about sex?" Racetrack asked, his stern façade gone. He looked amused.

"Lots of things!" Snipeshooter looked offended.

"I know for a fact that you don't know nuthin' kid," Racetrack didn't looked convinced as he brushed past Snipes.

"Yes I d-"

"No, you don't." Race cut the redhead off. "You shouldn't know those things at your age and thank God you don't."

Snipeshooter crossed his arms and glared at Race. Racetrack just smirked and looked Tumbler. "Why would you want to know about sex kid?" Racetrack asked. "I'd think Skittery would kill ya."

Tumbler scowled. "I don't," he said irritated. "I just want to know where babies come from."

Race chuckled. "That's where the sex comes from."

"I don't even know what sex is." Tumbler rolled his eyes.

Racetrack ruffled his hair. "Good, ya shouldn't at your age. Now don't worry about your question 'kay? Skitts would kill me if I told ya."

"But why?" Tumbler felt very discouraged at this news. "What's wrong with it?"

"It's just an inappropriate answer, as Snipeshooter can testify to," Racetrack cast a meaningful look to a still sulking Snipes.

"But I-"

"No but's," Racetrack said firmly. "Push it out of your mind, alright? You'll be healthier if you do." Then the Italian put a cigar in his mouth and strolled away.

Snipeshooter edged towards Tumbler. "Told ya what older people do when ya ask that question." He sounded almost smug.

Tumbler groaned. "I think I'll just forget about it. It's easier that way."

_Fin…

* * *

_A/N: Good? Bad? Horrible? Feedback would definitely help. :D And since we're on the subject of character weeks, I'd like to start advertising my own week that most of you already know about, but I feel I should start "recruiting" people early. ;D Jack Week is June 16th-21st. Here's a quick summary of what's gonna happen; you write a story about Jack, post it during that week (no slash or m-ratings please), send me a PM that you posted it, I read it. After the week is over, I (and my pal Skaterater) judge all the entries and choose a winner, who gets bragging rights. All stories will be archived in a community. Questions? Feel free to PM me. (A more detailed history and list of all the character weeks is on my profile)

Alright then, you may now click the review button. (Just kidding) Thanks for hosting Smiley!

Cheers!

-AdrenalineRush16

P.S. FYI, if you're interested in doing Jack Week, shoot me a PM. You can just enter during the week, but I'd like to know who's doing it in advance. :) Thanks!


End file.
